


you look at me, it's like you hit me with lightning

by waxpoetic



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waxpoetic/pseuds/waxpoetic
Summary: The first meeting.Eliza thinks Angelica goes about things the wrong way, but it works to her benefit this time.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	you look at me, it's like you hit me with lightning

Eliza thinks Angelica goes about things the wrong way, but it works to her benefit this time. 

Angelica has always been the “smart” one. All of the Schuyler sisters were well educated, but Angelica is the one who wields her wit like a weapon, eager to do battle with the men she encounters and strike them down when she inevitably finds them lacking. She prides herself on her ability to read them, to cut to the heart of them, but Eliza thinks she lacks imagination. There is a virtue in seeing things as they are, but Eliza prefers to think of things as they might be one day. It’s a quality that may have been instilled in her by growing up around the spirit of revolution, but she sees potential everywhere. 

It could be that she hopes she’s given the same benefit of the doubt. Eliza doesn’t like to think of the type of man that she’ll end up with if they can only see her as the shy second daughter of an esteemed general. That’s not all there is to her and she’s sure that she’ll only grow, if given the chance. 

Even from across a crowded ballroom, he cut a striking figure. In the sea of military men in their best uniforms, though they could hardly be called the “best” by this point in the war, he was not the tallest or the broadest, but he was all that she could see. The candlelight danced over his fine features and made his dark eyes glow. 

He must be Alexander Hamilton. She had heard Washington had a new aide-de-camp, a boy they said could read his mind and translate it to paper in a flash. Her father said he was becoming more familiar with the handwriting of “the boy” than Washington’s own, though he was mindful to sign his own letters and leave no doubt about his respect for General Schuyler. She had heard that Lady Washington named her tomcat after him, though dismissed it out of hand— that sort of mockery was beneath her, if not of her husband’s men, then of the women who may be involved— but had to admit that she could see why the comment was repeated. He seemed to strut or prowl more than he walked, flicking the proud mane of his hair. 

Women and men alike lingered around him, but Angelica had his ear at the moment. Eliza could tell from her posture alone, from the stiffness of her back, that she was being challenged. She could tell from the smile on her face that she liked it. Still, Eliza didn’t worry. Hamilton was not a name known to anyone in the colonies, and it would take three generations settled here before one with an immigrant background could lay claim to Angelica Schuyler. She just hoped that he wouldn’t be too dazzled by her older sister and find her lacking in comparison, as some men did. If she got the chance to speak to him, she would open up, she swears to herself. He seemed like someone who had imagination too, who might be able to see what she could be. Not even a moment later, she caught him gazing at her over Angelica’s shoulder and tried not to get too carried away, but felt the small seed of hope start to bloom. 

Eliza was wrong, about his eyes. They did not glow; they burned. She felt them like a brand on her skin.


End file.
